Memory
by DixieMame
Summary: 11 of the 100 Challenge. During the war, old friends meet up to discuss one special night.AU Crossover with Cats Don't Dance.


_HEY WHADDYA KNOW. SHE STILL WRITES._

_Part of the 100 Challenge. My friend asked me to write of a certain pairing, in a certain setting (ww2, my guess on this) and so here it is. Lil bit of swearing and sexual stuff, but it's not too bad, just a hint_

Enjoy! The birds belong to Disney, the cat belongs to whoever owns Cats Don't Dance, Sumemrtime belongs to whoever first wrote it...basically, I own nada.

* * *

The bar reeked of smoke. Not the haphazard kind you find in your chimney, but rather the light, nearly tasty smoke from several cigarettes at once. Combine it with the smell of overflowing booze, and one nearly could pass out just by walking in. One could call it quiet...even though the sounds were plenty. Soft jazz music playing in the background, accompanied by clinks of drinks and mutterings of distraught males.

This was home.

The door jingled, from a soft bell atop. No one really bothered to look at the new guests. In the front, a duck with a cat-like grin, looking plenty pleased with himself. He then leaned against the door, keeping it open for his companions. A parrot came in afterwards, as green as grass. He was chomping on a foggy cigar, seemingly disinterested in the entire scene. As he eyed the area for available seats, the third friend made his way in. This one was a scrappy rooster, whose smile was genuine and honest, almost like a naive young boy. Yet he inhaled the smog of the bar deeply, as if it was natural as fresh air.

"Ey, I think I found a spot." The parrot spoke, waving his hand a little. He had found a small booth, dirty and ragged, but enough to hold all three of them. Green sat in the middle, with white to his left, and red to his right. Judging from the brown outfits, one could easily guess they were war boys. However, they had come to talk about that. No, no, this was a celebration! "So, she finally chained you down?" Asked the cigar chewer, toward the duck.

"Hilarious." He tapped his friend's beak in annoyance. "I just figured I'd better ask now before we had to ship out again." He brightened suddenly, leaning back. "And she said yes."

"Congratulations, _amigo_!"The rooster suddenly interjected. "I always knew you two would get hitched! What's next, the pitter patter of little webbed feet?"

Parrot rolled his eyes. "Ey, Panchito. We're here to get him drunk, not give him a heart attack."

"Speaking of that..." The duck frowned, looking around. "When do we get some service around here?"

"Sorry to keep you waiting, boys."

All three males nearly jumped out of their seats. Looking far right, a feline femme fetalle stood, thin dress hugging her slim body. She had one hand on her hip, the other leaning on the table. She smiled at all three at them...until she locked eyes with the rooster.

A flicker of recognition crossed their eyes.

"The best things in life are worth waiting for, baby." The parrot cracked a smile, not noticing the smidgen of tension. "How long you wanna wait for me?"

Duck rolled his eyes, and hit him on the shoulder. "Knock it off Jose...we'll have a round of cold ones."

"Comin' right up." She turned away, letting her fluffy white tail dash across Panchito's beak for a small second. She sashayed away to the bar, getting to the work.

"And here I thought this was my night." White smirked, right at Panchito. "Looks like you've got a fan."

He didn't say anything for a moment...he looked down at the table, contemplating.

Jose raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter, Panchito? Usually you rush after a lady like your feet are on fire."

"Not into kitty cats?" The duck asked, cocking his head to a side.

"..." Panchito suddenly stood up. "I'll see how the drinks are coming." He then left the table, heading for the bar. His friends looked at each other, and shrugged.

At the bar, the rooster grabbed a stool, and sat. "_Hola_." he spoke, rather calmly.

She paused, her back to him, and then slowly turned around. She smiled, and then handed over a beer bottle. "It's been a while, Pistoles."

"Too long, Sawyer." He popped the cap off. "...Funny. Didn't think I'd see you here again."

"Lay off the bull, buddy boy." Her smile became sad, as she leaned against the bar. "...You knew better than me that it was just a dream."

"If I had, I wouldn't have let you go." He looked right at her. "But I knew you had it in you."

"I guess you were the only one." She looked away, no longer putting up the effort to smile. "I can't even count how many auditions I had...no one would take me. I didn't even last three months."

Panchito stared at his bottle, not drinking it. "...It seemed like anything was possible that night." He whispered, going back in time.

"We were both flying." She walked around the bar, with her own drink, to sit next to him. "You were still as handsome as you are now."

He looked at her, with soft eyes. "And you...just as beautiful when I first laid eyes on you. But you know, it was your voice that really made me love you."

"Don't say that." She opened her own bottle.

"Say what?"

"That you loved me."

"But I did."

"It was a one night stand."

"That hardly makes a difference." He finally took a drink, and a long one at that. "I loved you more in that one night than I have any other woman in my whole life."

"That's a very sweet load of crap."

"Have you ever known me to lie?" He pointed his bottle in her direction.

She frowned, but he'd won that argument. "...Admittedly, I compared nights with other men to you, and they never did shape up." She grinned, and they both shared a good laugh over it.

When it died down, his eyes shone on her. "I thought we'd do it all. Get married, buy a house, raise a bunch of little _ninos_."

"While I just wanted to be Hollywood's next big thing." She took a sip, and licked her lips afterwards. "Besides. You were being shipped away the next morning."

"I know." He shrugged. "I just thought you'd wait for me...turns out you wouldn't even wait 'til the sun rose. Gone when I woke up."

She closed her eyes, resting her elbows on the wooden bar. "I had to catch the next train, to make an audition. But I did miss you."

"I'll take your word on that." He emptied his bottle down. "I never did stop thinking about you. Even when I knew there was a chance I'd never see you again."

"You always were too sweet for your own good." She sighed, putting her half done bottle down. "What did I do to deserve you, Pistoles?"

He smiled at her. "...You sing anymore, Sawyer?"

"Not since the dream died."

"How about you give us a treat?" He jabbed a thumb towards the small stage, where the lazy jazz band was playing.

She blinked, and then looked away. "Ah...I couldn't..."

He placed his hand on top of hers, trying to look at her face. "...Dreams don't die. They just like to hide when the going gets tough. I know mine's ready to face the surface again."

Swayer eyed him, and then rolled her eyes. "You're a crazy son of a gun, Panchito Pistoles." She then hopped off the stool, and headed for the stage. She whispered something into the saxophone player's ear, and after a nod, the music changed ever so slightly. She tapped the mike, swallowing down a nervous whimper...Then she took a deep breath, and a velvety voice emitted from her throat.

_"Summertime...__  
And the living is easy..._

_Fish are jumping..._

_The cotton is high..._

_Oh, your daddy's rich..._

_Your mama's good lookin'..._

_I said hush little baby..._

_don't you cry..."_

The rooster made his way back to the booth, where the annoyed party boy immediately snapped at him. "Well? When are we getting our drinks?"

"Relax, amigo." Panchito chuckled, taking his seat back. "We have go back sooner or later...let's just relax now."

_"One of these mornings...  
You're bound to rise up singing...  
Then you'll spread your wings...  
And take to the sky...  
But til that morning...  
Nothing's going to harm you, no...  
With daddy and mama standing by..."_

End.


End file.
